Madness: A Dark Revenge Romance

“Haidyn?”

I look up from my desk at the blonde standing in our office—Saint, Kashton, and I have been running this place for almost four years now. After our fathers passed, it was handed over to us. Well, I guess handed isn’t the correct word. We had to undergo ‘training’ to do what we were born to have. The Lords felt we weren’t ready to take over this prison. It was a way to punish us. See just how far they could push us. The Lords are notorious for trying to break you.

Her brown eyes tell me everything I need to know. She’s been standing there for quite some time, and she’s irritated that I chose to ignore her.All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

She glances at her watch. “We were supposed to start thirty minutes ago.”

“I’m busy.”

She looks over at Kashton as he sits at his desk across from mine, and he shrugs. What does she expect him to do? He’s not my fucking keeper.

“Haidyn—”

“I told you last time you were here and the time before that. You’re fired, Lana.” I stand from my desk, and she takes a step back, her hand going to her chest as if I’m going to pounce on her. Fuck her or kill her—I’m not sure which one would scare her more.

“The Lords⁠—”

“Tell the Lords that I said they can fuck themselves,” I say with a smile.

She gasps, and Kashton rolls his eyes. Lana would never hurt a fly. The woman is in her early fifties and hates her life as a Lady. She’s done something to piss the Lords off, and they’ve put her here for me to fuck with her. Sucks to be her.

The diamond on her left hand tells me she’s married to a Lord at the bottom of the totem pole—not a very powerful one but a Lord, nonetheless. So here she is doing her part for the society, and I’m making it difficult. I truly don’t give a fuck.

“I’m here to do my job.” She speaks softly as if I’m going to yell at her.

I’m not in the mood for that shit today. I just want to be left alone. Meeting her stare, I add, “You have five seconds to get the fuck out of my sight.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice. She spins around, exits the office, and slams the door behind her.

Kashton shakes his head, chuckling. “You know they’ll send someone else.”

I tune him out like usual. Life didn’t go how it was supposed to. Things went to hell years ago. It only took one woman to fuck everything up. Well, it wasn’t her fault. It was mine. But you know what they say—every story worth telling starts with a girl.

Ashtyn Lane Price was the one who changed our paths.

I have secrets that I vowed to take to my grave. I never thought I’d deceive my brothers, but it was my only option. Plus, Saint kept a big one from us that I’m sure Kashton doesn’t know about.

The door opens, and Saint rushes in. Going over to his desk, he plops down and starts typing on his computer. I exit the office, wanting to be alone. I’ve always liked my space, which is hard to get as a Lord. You live at the house of Lords for four years while attending Barrington University. After graduation, Lords get to go their separate ways except for us. The Spade brothers all live together at Carnage.

This is our prison. We’re chained to this hell. No matter what we do, we’ll die here, and we’ll be buried here. It’s the life the Lords chose for the four of us even though we’re down to three already.

I make my way down to the basement. It’s my church, in a sense, and where I go to pray. Not to God because I don’t believe. But it can be spiritual.

My father thought he had planned my future, but I refused to give him what he wanted.

Senior year at Barrington

We’re closing in on the ritual—the vow ceremony that consists of us finally getting to fuck a woman in front of others to show that we have successfully done our part to become Lords.

It’s a rite of passage, they say. The senior Lords have served three years of celibacy, and the women are ready to give themselves to us.

The brand is so fresh it rubs against my shirt with every move I make walking down the stairs at my parents’ house. I’m going to meet my brothers at a party tonight. I see the door to my father’s office cracked.

“She’s ready,” a male’s voice says from inside the room. I know it well and grew up around it. It belongs to one of my father’s brothers.

“You sure?” my father asks.

“Absolutely.” He scoffs as if second-guessing him is an insult. “Her mother doesn’t think so, but I know the truth. Plus, that therapist of hers is a nutcase.”

“You’re the one who wanted to do business with her.” My father chuckles, and I frown. Who are they talking about?

Clearing my throat, I push the door open and step inside his office to see my father sitting behind his desk and Mr. Price relaxing on the couch.

“Haidyn.” My father smiles, gesturing to one of the high-back chairs. “Have a seat. We’re discussing your future.”

Of course, he is. I have no say in my life. If the Lords don’t control me, my father does. It’s always been this way, and it will continue to go on like this until he dies. That day can’t come soon enough.

“You have three weeks before the ritual,” my father reminds me.

I want to roll my eyes but refrain. He acts like I don’t know how this works. Like I could ever forget I have to take a chosen at the vow ceremony.

“Ashtyn—”

“I’m not choosing her.” I interrupt my father.

He looks over at Mr. Price—Ashtyn’s father—then back at me. “Son…”

“She doesn’t belong to me.” Do I want her? No. I’ve grown up with Ashtyn Lane Price. Our fathers are both Spade brothers. But one of my brothers is in love with her. I can’t take her from him. I consider her to be one of my best friends, and things will change if I claim her as mine. And although I hate my life, I love my brothers. I would never do them wrong or betray them, and stealing his girl would be unforgivable in their eyes.

“She belongs to whoever I give her to,” Mr. Price states.

“Let me tell you something, boy.” My father stands from his desk, buttoning his suit jacket. “You take whatever we want. There is no ‘she doesn’t belong to me’ bullshit. Do you hear me?”

“I don’t want her,” I say through gritted teeth and look at Mr. Price. “Saint wants her. He can have her.”

“No. We have a deal.” My father shakes his head. “She’s important…which makes you important.”

Whatever the fuck that means. It’s not changing my mind. Walking over to his desk, I place my hands on the surface and say, “I don’t care what kind of deal you’ve made with him; I will not take her as my chosen.” I push off the surface and turn to Mr. Price. He too is now standing. “Make a new deal with Saint. He’ll do anything for her.” And with that, I exit the office, slamming the door behind me.

I love Ashtyn in a way that even I can’t explain. Have I imagined fucking her? Of course, but that’s bound to happen when you’ve been deprived of any sexual activity for three years. I’ve seen her almost every day of my life. But I’m also a horny bastard. Hell, I went home yesterday and jerked off to a woman who I saw at the gas station because I could see her pink thong peeking out of the top of her jeans.

I’m only human.

If I had my way, I wouldn’t take on a chosen at all. I’d rather not get sentenced to fuck one woman. I’ve seen other Lords do it over the past three years, and it always comes with problems. Just one more thing I don’t want to have to deal with. That sounds selfish, but Lords are trained to put themselves first. A woman is nothing more than a toy to use.

The ritual confirms that. We strip a woman naked, tie her to a Lords altar, and fuck her in front of others to prove we are men to the society. She has to bleed for us. A Spade brother only accepts the best—a virgin.

Other Lords get to choose which hole they want to fuck. And she doesn’t have to be a virgin. If I was given the choice, I’d pick the ass. There’s just something about a woman’s ass that gets me off. Any woman can spread her legs, virgin or not. But to bend over and put her ass up in the air, while begging you to fuck it, that takes a different type of woman. Especially since most don’t want to do it. They find it dirty, degrading, and taboo.

I pull myself out of that memory. It didn’t matter then, and it doesn’t matter now. She never belonged to me, and I never wanted her.

Making my way off the elevator, I remove the keys from my pocket and approach one of the many cells we have down here. The Lord sits with his back against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest.

When I turn on the light, he closes his eyes. I smile, in the mood to get bloody. “Good morning,” I say, pulling my cell out of my pocket and picking a song. As “Hallelujah” by No Resolve begins to play, my body relaxes. It’s my go-to song when I’m in the mood to fuck shit up.